


night out

by loonyloopy



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyloopy/pseuds/loonyloopy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen and Rylen get drunk one night</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Depending on one’s interpretation of a disaster this could definitely qualify as one. 

Somewhere along the way Rylen had lost his trousers. His pale Starkenhaven arse was shining brighter than the moons on a clear night and his fingers were trying to hide his, well, other assets. Clearly a lost cause. He was drunk and stumbling and his face showed the signs of a desperate man, clinging to hope and pride, which both had been lost hours and hours ago. Cullen blinked. Once. Twice. Where did the trousers go? 

Their last mugs were filled with poison. They had to be. He was sure of it, because there was no other logical explanation. Yes. A not so subtle headache was already spreading through his head, as he tried to suppress his laughter, glad that his behind was truly and well covered. Maker! They would never hear the end of it, if one of the soldiers actually saw them like that. Cullen opened his coat and offered it to Rylen.

“It could be worse.”

“How could it be worse, Cullen. I’m freezing my balls off.”

“Huh, at least I’m the only one, who witnesses your moment of shame?”

Rylen growled and his accent seemed stronger than before.

“Great. Fantastic. My Commander is watching me freeze my balls of then. Captain Rylen, forever remembered for his balls of ice. The hero of the glacial testicles.”

He pushed his forefinger against Cullen’s chest.

“And don’t believe for a moment that I didn’t see that smirk earlier.”

Cullen raised his hands and tried to look innocent. 

“I would never.”

“OH, you would.”

Grumbling Rylen took the coat and closed the fibula. It took him three tries and his calves were still bare and exposed to the chilly air. Poor sod. Cullen mustered the result, eyes small and focused. Curiously his shoes were still there. How did that happen? Did someone cut off he trousers? And the unmentionables? He couldn’t remember the last minutes before the incident. There were flashes of light, laughter and a strange taste. 

“But you’re right. It could be worse. Nothing here is trying to eat me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure…”

“What?”

“Nothing, we should concentrate on your missing trousers.”

“I will never get them back.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Damn shame. I really liked that pair.”

He put one arm around Cullen’s shoulders.

“We’ll never drink with the Chargers again.”

“Agreed.”


	2. missing pants

“Cullen, where are your pants?” Rylen’s voice sounded as drunk as Cullen felt.

“My… what?”

“Your pants, Cullen. They seem to be missing.” 

He looked down.

“No, they’re…” Cullen stopped.

“Oh Maker, well.” They were indeed missing and his legs looked rather pale and a bit shaky. At least he was still wearing his unmentionables and his tunic was long enough to cover all of the important parts. A small mercy in this kind of situation. 

He rubbed his neck.

“Ah, that would explain the little draft I feel down there.”

Rylen slapped his shoulder. “Down there? Come one, you’re not eight any more.”

Cullen scowled, or tried to, because being that drunk didn’t do much for his facial expressions. His memories seemed a bit blurry as well and a dull ache settled beneath his skull. He’d so regret this in the morning. They’d arrived in the Western Approach two days ago, cleared out some vermin infestation, and decided that maybe a celebration was in order. Rylen clearly was a bad influence, because he’d never lost his pants while drinking with Cassandra, or in general, maybe once when he was very young and not yet a templar, but he just wasn’t the type for throwing off clothing in the middle of some feasting. Or hadn’t been. 

And people believed that he was stuck up all the time.

“But when did it happen?” 

Serving in this wasteland of sand and sun made the soldiers a bit strange. Silly? Nah, those weren’t the best descriptions, more like, unpredictable. They roasted mysterious meat and took a bath in the sun now and then, when they weren’t on duty. All of them looked pretty tan compared to him. Not to mention that their armor lacked certain parts and he’d seen a lot of rather shabbily clad soldiers and scouts running around. So, everything seemed a bit different out here and the nights were still warm, sticky and filled with the stench of sweat and sulfur. It actually didn’t feel that bad to be rid of his pants. Not that he would mention that.

“Somewhere between that keg of ale and that other keg of ale?”

“Not helping.”

“Hey, don’t look at me. I’m just happy that my balls are safe and warm for once.”

“Why are we always talking about your balls?”

“Well, we could talk about yours? Any luck with that lady of yours, yet?”

“Ugh.”

“I suppose not.”

Rylen shrugged and sat down on the warm stone, his feet dangling above a whole lot of nothing.

“You know, you’re my friend and all, but you suck at, eh, forming relationships.”

Cullen sighed and took his place beside Rylen.

“Tell me something new.”

“Your pants are missing.”

“Haha.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr prompt <3


End file.
